


Don't Believe the Hype

by moreless



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Armitage Hux Has No Chill, Crack Treated Semi Seriously, Fluff, Humor, Kylo...surprisingly does, M/M, Slice of Life, Werewolf!Hux, vampire!Kylo, vampires and werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreless/pseuds/moreless
Summary: Kylo Ren's a vampire. He's been around a century or so, is trying out the "having scruples" bit again. It's hard. And it gets harder still when he finds himself forced to dogsit a newly turned werewolf. Because Armitage Hux is an asshole, quite possibly the mostattractiveaggravating asshole Kylo's ever met.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Don't Believe the Hype

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired somewhat by Sarah Anderson's supernatural slice-of-life comic, [Fangs](https://tapas.io/episode/1559785). With some _What We Do in the Shadows_ thrown in. Kinda sorta based on the idea, what if a staunch cat person gets turned into...a _dog_ (oh the horror).

There is a body in the park.

It’s bleeding sluggishly from the leg, femoral artery torn open and long since drained. Werewolf attack, judging from the size of the bite, as well as that rotten-meat, wet-dog odour surrounding the wound.

Kylo steps over the body to get a better look. White male, O neg, late twenties to mid thirties, it’s always hard to tell. Some kind of businessman, judging from the suit. The werewolf had somehow run off, leaving it’s victim alive and conscious for long enough to have the wherewithal to tie his tie like a tourniquet above the bite. Not that it’d helped him.

Gnawing his lip, Kylo looks around. The park isn’t a great place for burying a body. This one isn’t large, for starters, well combed enough by junkies, the homeless, curious children and teens playing hooky that someone’s bound to spot the human shaped pile of dirt. Too many dogs too, nosy creatures, sticking their snouts everywhere. He could just leave it here. Read about it in the morning news. Mysterious attack! Unknown creature! Wild beasts! It might make life interesting for a while.

But then he thinks of Rey. She’s been trying to make him try out having scruples again. And a body left here which such circumstances surrounding its death might invite scrutiny upon him. Scrutiny he doesn’t want.

With an annoyed sigh, he bends to pick up a leg.

The other leg kicks him in the face.

*

The body’s name is Hooks, which it jabbers out under the impression that Kylo is an EMT. An odd name for someone who looks nothing at all like a pirate. British, judging from his accent, from somewhere up north, possibly, and Hooks is angry enough with having been almost dead that Kylo isn't going to try piss him off further by making a wrong guess. Humans can be very sensitive about this sort of thing.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” he snarls, looking from his half bitten off leg to Kylo and back to his leg. Now that Hook's realized Kylo’s not a medic, he’s somehow decided he’s the source of his misfortune. He prods at the bite, turns even whiter than he already is, then biting his lip, pokes at it again. “It’s healing.”

Great, now Kylo’s going to have a baby werewolf on his hands, loose in his city. Maybe it’s not too late to rip his throat out and throw the body in the river. What he should have done in the first place, instead of dawdling around, trying to have _morals_.

“Look at me,” Kylo says forcefully. Hooks looks up. In the scattered moonlight filtering through the trees, his eyes are very pale. “You’re going to go home, clean up, and then leave this city.”

Those eyes glaze over. “I’m going to go home, clean up and--” Hooks blinks, shakes his head. “I’m what--no! Why the hell would I leave this city?” His eyes narrow suspiciously. “What are you trying to do to me?”

Kylo tries a different tack. “It’s for your own good.”

“Not bloody likely,” Hooks snaps. “I’ve only just moved here. I have an excellent job, my ex is an entire ocean away. I’m not leaving.”

Kylo pushes a little harder. “You’re feeling traumatized--”

“I’m _not_!”

“You want to--”

“Fuck this shit!” Hooks snaps. He wobbles to his feet, grabbing onto a sapling for balance. His leg is almost healed; now it looks just nibbled on. “You!” And he stabs a long bony finger in Kylo’s direction. “You can’t Jedi mind trick me. I’m not going to _move along_ , or whatever it is you’re trying to make me do. Piss off.”

Kylo sticks his hands in his pockets and stares. He’s not going to “piss off”. He was here first, and this furry idiot isn’t about to encroach upon what is his.

Hooks takes a step and almost falls over. Not quite healed yet. Despite the blood loss there’s an embarrassed flush in his face when glares at Kylo. “What’re you looking at? Go away!”

Never, _never_ in Kylo’s hundred plus years of afterlife has he seen someone come away from a bite, werewolf or other, this angry. Except possibly himself. It’ll be interesting to see if Hooks tries to burn the local church down to the ground. Though for a modern werewolf, consecrated ground would hold far less meaning. Maybe Hooks will dig up the dog park instead.

He steps aside to let Hooks shuffle past, still snarling, injured leg dragging behind. He briefly considers offering to help, if only to see how much more it might further piss off the man, but judging from the sagging shoulders, the anger seems to be fading, to be replaced by weariness. There’s a danger Hooks might actually take him up on the offer, and Kylo has no desire to actually be helpful. He’s still hungry, and this entire episode has disrupted his plans for the night.

The next time Hooks turns around, the park is empty. Just his blood stains the ground, already disappearing into the dirt.

*

The next few nights, Kylo keeps an eye on the news for any strange occurrences. There are no reports of strange attacks, which meant Hooks hadn’t gone to a hospital, and nobody else has come forward with similar injuries or sightings of a big dog. Whoever it had been who had bitten Hooks, they must have simply been passing through, Hooks merely the unfortunate idiot caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Kylo sips his blood. He’s feeling what Rey calls “extra” today, which means he’s sipping it from a wine glass instead of the usual reusable to-go cup she’d gotten him, the one that says _Classy, crafty and hella sassy_ in loopy, cheerful lettering. He is none of these things.

Tonight he’s taking what humans these days call a “self care day”. Hence the glass. It's a comfort thing. He’d clawed his way out his coffin upon nightfall after a particularly unpleasant day. He can only suspect that the insulation on his windows, the blackout curtains and the air conditioning have somehow failed to hold up against the summer heat. His fault, really, for buying an attic apartment. He’d just liked the sloped ceilings, the exposed beams, the tiny balcony perfect for lounging on moonless nights. He hadn’t reckoned how unbearably hot it got in summer, and coffins aren’t exactly known for being breathable. If this keeps up, he might actually have to invest in a deep freezer.

Idly, he starts Googling “deep freezers”, wondering what his neighbours might think if he had one hoisted through the window.

*

A month passes. The moon wanes, then waxes, and on the day that it is fullest, Kylo finds himself lurking in the park again. This time he’s not looking to feed, merely to observe if Hooks might show up. He hadn’t seen the man again, but this is a sizable city, so it’s not like he might accidentally stumble into him, even if he deigned to go out in the day.

As a bat, he dangles upside down from the tallest tree in the park. It doesn’t afford him the best view, but he’ll be able to hear and smell the wolf long before he nears.

Yet it is quiet, the night filled with the sound of cicadas and the earthy scents of the park. A fox creeps its way through the underbrush. No humans, no wolves pass through. Kylo waits for a little longer, but after two hours pass and he senses nothing, he stretches his leathery wings and lets himself drop into a current of air that carries him up over the trees and rooftops of the city. In summer the nights are short, and he must make the best that he can of them.

*

Three nights later Kylo is refilling his 48oz nalgene bottle from his second unwitting donor when he hears it. At first he thinks it’s just the man he’s draining, moaning faintly as each beat of his heart squeezes more fresh blood into the plastic bottle. (Kylo could go vegan of course, which he occasionally does, but now in summer he prefers it fresh, especially since the lack of darkness often leaves him feeling lethargic and depressed.)

“Shhh…” he compels the man, white, late thirties, blood type A positive, pho for dinner. Kylo can smell the anise.

“Fuck off,” the man moans. “I ain’t buying what you’re selling.”

Kylo’s not sure what he’s talking about--he’d pulled the man into the alley under the pretext of asking for the time.

He hears it again, faintly carried on the summer breeze. Angry shouting. The accent sounds familiar.

“Do you hear that?”

“No,” answers the man, still compelled. “Don’t hear a thing.”

“Hmmm.” Kylo carefully pulls the needle from his arm, slaps a Frozen bandaid on it, then takes a long drink of blood as he peers out into the night. He hears it again, faint cursing. It could be a drunk. It could also be a very pissed off werewolf.

“I’m not a dogsitter,” he mutters, but he packs his bottle away and transforms anyway. Flying, even with the backpack, it takes him mere minutes before he’s circling the park. He spots Hooks under the same copse of trees where Kylo’d found him, pacing angrily and kicking up dirt as though he’d somehow find Kylo under a clod of leaves. He’s actually impressed the man’s not on all fours, digging. This newly turned, so close after a transformation, it’s hard to remember to be human.

Forgetting his backpack, Kylo tries to land quietly on a tree branch, only to find himself knocked off balance by the sloshing blood in its container. Hooks’ senses are already heightened from his transformation. He definitely notices it when Kylo falls out of the trees right behind him.

Hooks spins around. Though he managed to retain some presence of mind, traces of the moon still cling to him three days after, since he looks positively feral. “You!” he snarls.“You did this to me!”

**Author's Note:**

> Will update sporadically, I don't really have a plan for this.
> 
> Yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/OrMoreless).


End file.
